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by WennyT, whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, You've Got Mail (1998)
Genre: (namely Mandoongie because Taepoong is a wuss), Alternate Universe - Music Store, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, BAMF Dogs, Cho Kyuhyun and Kim Heechul everyone, Coffee Shops, Dogs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot Devices, Texting, are magical places where seeds of lurv are sown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT, https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho has a thing for trashy pop music, misunderstood people, and dogs. Changmin is a typical snob who likes wailing German arias, complicated coffee orders, and dogs. They meet online, where Changmin is so much less of an asshole. The question is - can this relationship survive Real Life? </p><p>A You’ve Got Mail AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello, It's Mister Nasty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/gifts).



> A gift for our big sister figure, who scolds and nags and fusses but also coddles, because she cares. Here, have some MegRyan!Jung.

* * *

 

“Like, pop music, but I don’t want Justin Bieber or Disney singers.”

 

“What about this,” Yunho grins, handing another CD to the teenage girl slouching against a shelf next to him. She is trying to pull off a too-cool-for-you vibe, with her all black clothing and black ankle boots, but the way she is shifting from foot to foot and chewing on her lip more than shows how young she is. “It’s a singer called Carly Rae Jepsen, maybe you’ve heard of her-”

 

“Call Me Maybe?” The girl repeats, nose wrinkled.

 

“Yeah. She’s gotten a lot of flack for that song, but I personally think it’s catchy as hell,” Yunho shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “And her voice is good too, and in tune with what you’re looking for-”

 

“My oppa says she’s irritating,” the girl says, considering the cover art of the CD in her hands. Yunho prepares himself to list the ways in which Carly Rae is a better artiste that she has been given credit for, when the teenager continues, “but then again, my oppa listens to dumb music like Leesang.”

 

“Hey, Gary is a great rapper,” Yunho counters, half laughing. “And he’s amazing on Running Man.”

 

The wrinkles on his potential customer’s nose deepen. “He’s old,” she says, in a tone more suitable for ‘he’s a murderer’.

 

“Age does not dictate talent,” Yunho shrugs, fingers reaching back towards the shelf of CDs. “What about this, Christina Perri, I like her too. You know Twilight?”

 

“Oh my God, yes! Edward is _so_ hot!”

 

 

* * *

 

Two CDs and an entire conversation later, Yunho waves after the girl as she exits his store with a large bag full of purchases. “Come again!” he calls after her, and is answered by a smile and a returning wave.

 

Heechul scoffs from his stool in the corner where he’s been hunched over an old magazine for the last twenty minutes. “You just sell CDs, you don’t need to convert every single customer.

 

“Why can’t I have an unofficial mission to spread a real appreciation for pop music?” Yunho sighs, hands splayed across the counter, running fingers over the edges of stickers plastering the surface.

 

“‘Real’ and ‘pop music’ are two concepts that contradict each other,” Heechul rolls his eyes. “Besides, weren’t you rooting for Gaga last week?”

 

“Gaga is an artist. Look at how amazing Fame Monster was!” Yunho turns to watch his friend flick his hair in annoyance, “And you wouldn’t say these things about the King. People should remember Michael Jackson did pop music.”

 

“Yeah, and look where it got him,” Heechul points out. “People lying about him feeling their kids up and throwing him to the wolves in the court.”

 

“The media got it cleared up in the end,” Yunho counters, and he frowns in displeasure at the memory of how his childhood idol was wronged, for so many years. “And _I_ never did believe that of him, just look at how protective he was of his own children. Does that say ‘child molester’ to you? It doesn’t to me.”

 

Snorting, Heechul flicks a finger against Yunho’s forehead. “The media wouldn’t have given a fuck about it if he didn’t up and croak, and you know that. My point is— being ‘real’ hardly helps to sell pop music, and the tabloids that go along with it.”

 

“Anyway,” he hurries on, as Yunho is opening his mouth to spout off another retort. “Enough about Michael Jackson. He’s dead, he doesn’t give a fuck about what people think or say about him. You, on the other hand,” and here Heechul’s mouth twists into a wry smile, “are very much alive. Though you may not be for much longer because I spied with my little eye a certain new HMV store having its grand opening, while I was on the way here this morning.”

 

Yunho slumps, all of the fire going out of him as he processes Heechul’s words. “Yeah. I know. I saw, too.”

 

“So what are you going to do? _Music on Main_ isn’t going to survive if they start stealing all the business. And they will.” 

 

“I have no idea,” Yunho pillows his head on his arms.

 

A ping issues from Yunho’s pocket, and Heechul scoffs as Yunho reacts to the sound with almost comical haste, smile instantaneous as he digs his hand in deep against the fabric to retrieve his phone. “Don’t you get exhausted by your own mood swings?” 

 

“What mood swings?” Yunho mutters absentmindedly, already tuning Heechul out as he swipes across his phone’s screen to bring up the text message his phone as just received. Just as he thought, it is his online friend of a few months, X-JapanIsMyGod.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** so I listened to that song you recommended (and Mandoongie loved the dog biscuits from that brand you said Taepoong loves!)
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** aaaaannnddddd? :D (I’m so glad she likes them! Taepoong is crazy about them, you should see his face whenever I take the packet out from the cupboards)
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** it was okay! definitely better than the last one - the big band sound was really nice
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** I’m glad you liked it! Are you at work?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** yeah… lots of meetings. things are getting really busy.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** :( take care of yourself
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** of course. my turn now?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** yeah go ahead. but no more Wagner please, I think my ears haven’t recovered
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** har har very funny har har. okay more shitty classic music rec.

 

“Yunho,” Heechul snaps his fingers under Yunho’s nose, “Earth to Yunho!”

 

“Hmmm?” Yunho ignores his friend; smile still splitting his face and happiness in his throat.

 

> **Dance_Lover:** I can’t wait to listen if it’s something you like ^^
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** i can practically taste the sarcasm.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** Not sarcasm!!!
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** LOL. Chill, i’m kidding. Okay, more Puccini coming your way then, since you don’t take to Wagner
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** oh ha ha okay  ><
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** Nessun Dorma, from Turandot. Heard of it?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** not at all ‘D

 

“You disgust me,” Heechul sighs, and Yunho laughs.

 

“Good.”

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** Go listen to it when you’re at your lunch break or something. It’s phenomenal, I swear
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** as long as it isn’t some soprano singing out eating the heart of her lover or something again  ><
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** well… the premise is that the dude gets beheaded if he can’t answer the three riddles given to him by Princess Turandot
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** !!!!

 

“I hope you’re sexting because that is the only excuse for that gross expression on your face.” 

 

“Shut up, Heechul,” Yunho cannot help himself; he likes these conversations, likes the weird comments X-Japan makes. He is pretty sure he maybe just likes X-Japan. “We’re talking about music.”

 

“I’m so disturbed that your music-talk face looks like a sex-talk face, you don’t even know.”

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** well he doesn’t really sing about that in the song. I promise. Try to listen to it when you’re free, all right?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** okay okay I’ll look at it later today! You really like this?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** yeah. look for the pavarotti rendition! Andrea Bocelli is good too
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** I… will google them

 

“Have you heard of Pavarotti?” Yunho asks absentmindedly, still fiddling with his keyboard. He looks up to see Heechul gaping at him. “Who the fuck is that?”

 

“Never mind.” Yunho flings a scowl at his best friend and looks back down at his phone as it beeps.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** god trying to introduce what you love to people whose opinion you care about is really odd
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** yeah, like you’re giving them a real look at your heart. makes me nervous  ><
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** tell me about it.

 

A laugh escapes him, even as his fingers are moving across the on-screen keyboard in a reply. Heechul sniffs next to him, clearly displeased at being ignored in favour of some pixels. “No need to get so happy when your boyfriend comes calling, you know.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Yunho says automatically, although his treacherous heart gives a little leap at the two words. “He’s… He’s just a friend.”

 

“Bullshit,” Heechul scoffs, stabbing another too pointy finger at him. “ _I_ ’m your oldest friend and I’ve never seen you wear that face while talking to _me_.”

 

“What face, I don’t have a particular face when I talk to him,” Yunho shakes his head, but he can feel his face being stretched in an involuntary, too wide grin.

 

“This face, this one, it’s damned disturbing!” Heechul grabs for Yunho’s cheeks and pinches, digging his fingers into Yunho’s flesh and pulling a pained yelp from the other. “I didn’t think your mouth could go that wide in a smile.”

 

“Ow, hell, stop it, that hurts,” Yunho tries to fend off Heechul’s bony fingers with one hand, his other hand preoccupied with finishing his text to X-JapanIsMyGod. “If you make me drop my phone, I’ll dock your pay!”

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** meeting time, sorry! Talk later?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** of course ^^

 

The threat is effective; Heechul’s fingers retreat, and their owner bestows a dark scowl on Yunho, grousing out a sulky “you suck. What happened to ‘bros before hos’?”, before grabbing for his magazine again.

 

Yunho glances down at his phone one final time, and feels a little pathetic for how eager he is to hear that little “kakao!” chirp, but at least it also means he momentarily forgot about the HMV store, at least for a little while, and is trying to remember Italian syllables and imagining what X-Japan’s smile might look like, instead.

 

  

* * *

 

 

“Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Yunho mutters, jamming his hands into his pockets and lowering his head from the chill tangible in the air. Seoul towards the end of the year is colder than ever, and he finds himself missing Gwangju and her relatively warmer winter weather whenever Christmas rolls around.

 

His favourite cafe is here though, and that itself is enough to make Yunho hesitate whenever plans of moving back to his hometown start popping up in his head. He has yet to find a place that can brew espresso with the same rich flavour or craft such deliciously flavoured hot chocolates - an important alternative for when his caffeine intake becomes more of a hindrance than help. Shaking hands and a too rapid heartbeat can make it difficult to stack CD shelves.  But it is still morning, and an Americano is calling his name. 

 

Another frigid wind worms its cold fingers down the back of his collar, and Yunho hunches, curling more into himself while hastening his steps towards the little cafe, tucked away on a side street.  It is crowded as usual when he gets there, dodging and smiling at strangers as he makes his way into line. But the baristas manning the cafe today are efficient as always, and soon enough Yunho finds himself next in line to order.

 

“I’ll have a hazelnut latte macchiato, large, non-fat milk, one pump syrup, no foam, extra-hot, no whipped cream, decorated in rosetta, and to go, please,” is apparently the order for the lunatic just ahead of him in the line, and Yunho can feel his own eyebrows raising higher and higher at every new qualifier. The barista taking the order looks like she is about to cry, and Yunho does not think she is unjustified.

 

“Jesus, why don’t you just order coffee,” he mutters to himself, but unfortunately sometimes he has a problem with voice modulation, and the man in front of him spins around abruptly.

 

“Excuse me?” He starts in, but stops immediately when he sees Yunho. Yunho is just a little bit dazzled by the high cheekbones and straight nose and heavily lashed eyes - exactly his type- before he realises that the man staring at him looks more than a little familiar, and just why that is so.

 

“You’re Shim Changmin,” something cold and dead settles in the pit of Yunho’s stomach at the sight of the businessman, a higher up in HMV, the company owning the giant CD store Heechul and he were discussing yesterday. Judging by the recognition flickering on the other’s face, he knows who Yunho is, too.

 

“And you’re… The owner of the um, quaint little CD store near here, with an equally quaint name. Yes?”

 

Yunho can feel his hackles rising. “Yeah. And we’re called _Music on Main_.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

They stare at each other, one contemplative, the other fuming.

 

“Why are you trying to destroy my shop?” Yunho knows that a crowded cafe might not be the ideal location for this conversation, but the question spills over his lips before he can hold it back.

 

“I’m not trying to destroy anything,” Changmin mutters lowly, a tightness pulling around his eyes and mouth, clearly mindful of the curious stares and whispers from the people behind them in the line. “I’m just trying to build a business.”

 

“At the expense of _mine_!” 

 

“This isn’t about your business - it’s about the customers and what they need.”

 

“They _need_ real people who care about them,” Yunho insists, paying for his Americano hurriedly, “A personal touch.”

 

“That’s very old fashioned of you, but what they actually need is a store that can provide the quantity as well as quality.”

 

“Why you obnoxious sno—”

 

Yunho does not get to finish his insult, because a trembling “hazelnut latte macchiato, large, non-fat milk, one pump syrup, no foam, extra-hot, no whipped cream” comes from the barista behind the counter at that exact moment, and Shim Changmin turns away from the conversation without so much as a “by-your-leave” to grab for his cup.

 

“I’m not finished!” Yunho hurries after him, all but dogging his steps as the other man reaches for his order from the barista.

 

“Look, it’s Jung Yunho right?” Changmin sighs out, hand pressed to his forehead. “It’s not personal, I’m just trying to help run a company. There’s nothing I can do.”

 

“Not personal? Of course it’s personal!” Yunho cannot believe how detached the other man can be when he is crushing Yunho’s life in the palm of his hand, “that store is my _life_.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Changmin shrugs and turns walking briskly away from Yunho on long legs, coat pulled tight against the cold wind. 

 

“You probably don’t even like music,” Yunho yells at the retreating back, petulant and angry, but he never gets a response from Shim Changmin.

 

 

* * *

 

His office is nearly as cold as the street outside, and Changmin makes a mental note to have someone turn the heat on before he shows up for work. He drops into his chair, letting a tired sigh gust out of him, and takes a drag of his macchiato. At least his coffee is well done, even though the barista was so twitchy that he had his doubts she could etch a straight line. 

 

Pulling out his phone, he sends a text without even looking at the keyboard, thumb tapping from muscle memory.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** i got flack for my job today

 

The reply is immediate.

 

> **Dance_Lover:** ): what happened?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** one of my employer’s competitors got pissed off and yelled at me
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** )))): during work?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** nah, I was on break. Ran into them.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** ): I’m so sorry.
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** Guess I feel a bit bad for them too… But business is business
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** I agree… even though I kind of can understand how your employer’s competitor feels
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** I can too, but. ah well. sigh 

 

“Sir, you have a carpenter coming to build the shelves in half an hour,” his secretary reminds him through the intercom.

 

> **Dance_Lover:** cheer up
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** don’t feel like it
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** I’ll cheer you up then. So I had the fortune of watching an anal bastard in action today
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** at work?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** : nah, at a place I like just around the corner. He was so fucked up that he nearly made a girl cry! And everyone was staring at him like he was shooting babies in front of them, but he didn’t seem to realise. it was equally annoying yet hilarious.

_The nerve of some people_ , Changmin cannot help but think, annoyed at the idea of someone irritating his friend.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** wtf
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** ikr?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** okay so that wasn’t very cheerful. but… anyway i hope your day gets better
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** it already has
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** (:

 

“Sir, your CFO is on line one,” the voice of his secretary on the intercom breaks through once again, and Changmin’s little bubble of happiness bursts, reminding him that, as much as he wishes, he does not get paid to send messages.

 

“All right, all right, I’m picking up,” he sighs, putting his mobile phone down and taking up the receiver of the office’s phone, but not before he sends one last text: 

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** thank you for listening - have a good day and pet taepoong for me!
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** only if you do the same for Mandoongie. Bye!

 

* * *

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** do you think we should meet?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** sure, why not?  

 

* * *

 

> **Dance_Lover:** so where and when do you want to meet?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** how about the dog park just a street from the Han river? This coming sunday?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** [immediately] sounds good! C u there!
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** I’ll be the one with the bratty Maltese.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** and I’ll be the one with the hyperactive Siberian husky shoving his nose everywhere ^^

 

* * *

 

Sunday comes much too fast - a blur of finalizing plans and paint and meetings makes it arrive before Changmin is anywhere near mentally prepared.  But he puts on his favourite pair of jeans and warmest coat before leashing Mandoong and heading out his apartment door.  

 

At two different moments, Changmin was almost positive he might be sick along the way, but he has a creeping, terrible feeling that it would not matter - he’d show up anyway even if he emptied his stomach on the sidewalk. He wants to know what Dance_Lover looks like when he laughs, hear the sound of his voice, and the promise of all these things makes him walk a little faster, heedless of the swarm of butterflies crowding his stomach.

 

The first thing Changmin notices about this dog park is that it has a lot of dogs. So much that ‘a lot’ may be a bit of an understatement. Huge dogs, tiny dogs, and all the dogs in between. Spaniels, Jack Russell terriers, greyhounds, retrievers.

 

He does not see a Husky, though. He thought he did, a little while ago, but it turned out to be an Alaskan Malamute, nearly twice the size of an average Husky, and the owner was female, and Changmin talks enough to Dance_Lover to know that he’s most decidedly not. Disappointment creeps it’s way through him every time someone passes him with any dog other than a Husky.

 

He ventures deeper into the park, Mandoong carefully cradled in his arms. She is abnormally docile, looking somewhat cowed, even, and Changmin thinks it is because of the abundance of noise and sheer number of dogs about them.

 

Just this morning she had shown her displeasure at him by crouching down to deposit her poop by his shiny wing-tips, even as he cleaned the mess up with baby wipes and pet-friendly disinfectant he wondered why he had allowed his two younger sisters to talk him into rearing the high-strung pup for them.

 

He sighs, shifting Mandoong to rest more against his chest. Oh, well. Diva though she is, she is also woefully tiny still, and he will be damned before he allows these dogs to even come near her. Already there is a beagle sprawled on a bench and staring at her, tongue lolling out almost obscenely, and Changmin bares his teeth at the insolent dog and its negligent owner, who sits beside it but only pays attention to her phone.

 

“Yah! Taepoongie!” A voice cracks across the late morning air. Both Changmin and Mandoong turn their faces and cock their heads to the name, and Changmin feels nervousness punch through him like an icy spike, searing and smooth through his chest.

_Taepoong_ , Changmin’s mind echoes back, oddly hysterical, _This is it_.

 

Finally, he catches sight of a large, black and white husky, bounding back towards a man halfway across the field, tennis ball caught between the dog’s teeth.  Changmin watches carefully as the dog stops in front of his owner who is bowed over, face obscured by a mop of reddish brown hair - an appealing shade, Changmin admits.

 

The other man, Dance_Lover, is dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, but the dark boot cut jeans show off wonderful legs, and Changmin finds himself flushing slightly in cold December chill as he takes in strong thighs and broad shoulders. But the warm, awkward feelings turn to jaw-dropping horror when the man stands, straightening his jacket and smiling before throwing the tennis ball once again.  

 

Changmin may not have seen that face smiling before, but the rest of the features are unmistakable.

 

Dance_Lover is Jung Yunho. Jung Yunho of _Music on Main_. Jung Yunho, the man who undoubtedly hates his guts.

 

Changmin cannot do this. He cannot. He needs to— he has to leave— Yunho will punch him in the face or laugh or walk away, and he really _really_ does not want any of those things to happen. Not after spending the last handful of months fantasizing about shy greetings and easy smiles. So he needs to leave now, he needs to go before Yunho sees him, before he is discovered.  

 

Without a second thought, he turns on his heel, holding Mandoong closer to his chest and speed walking back the way he came, passing the beagle and the giant Malamute and not stopping, not even when his calves start to ache from the strain, not stopping until he makes it all the way back to his apartment.

 

Snapping the door shut, Changmin finally places Mandoong back on the ground where she lets out an indignant bark at him and goes to find her favourite chew toy in the corner of the living room as Changmin tries not to slide down the door and sink to the ground.

 

“Fuck,” he curses out loud, angry and disappointed, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” How does this happen to him? How is the person he might sort of really really lo- like turn out to be the same person whose life he is well on his way to ruining? How?

 

“Why me?” he asks the empty apartment, only getting a disgruntled whinging growl from Mandoong in response.  It feels right, given his current situation.

 

Without thinking, he scrambles for his phone and sees five missed messages from Dance_Lover - no, from Jung Yunho.

 

> **Dance_Lover:** I’m here!
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** Are you alright?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** ????
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** It’s pretty cold out, i’m so sorry but I think I need to head inside
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** sorry :(( 

 

Changmin feels like a gigantic asshole. He _is_ a gigantic asshole. He quickly texts back, wishing he could say something less cryptic to Yunho.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** I’m so sorry I missed today. Please believe that I wish I could have talked to you in person. I need to sort a couple of things out.

 

Quickly closing out of the app, he flicks to his contact list, and selects an all too familiar number.  It rings three times, before the other person picks up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Kyuhyun, you have caller ID, why do you sound so confused?” Changmin snaps out, irritated and short-tempered at the way the day unfolded.

 

“Don’t be such an asshole, or I’ll hang up.”

 

“Wait, no. Come over, I have wine,” Changmin mutters quickly, hoping he sounds the right mix of pathetic and pleading if the offer of alcohol isn’t enough.

 

“Spanish?” Sometimes Changmin forgets how much of a wannabe sommelier his best friend is.

 

“And Argentine.”

 

“I’ll be right over.”  

 

 

* * *

 

“This is so fucked,” Changmin sighs, holding up his wineglass to stare at the little bit of Spanish red left over inside. He is just drunk enough to think that the particular shade of red reminds him of Dance— no, of Jung Yunho’s hair.  He blames the warmth he feels at the back of his neck on the alcohol too.   

 

Jung Yunho. He shudders again and drains his glass of wine.

 

“No, _you_ are so fucked,” Kyuhyun corrects, reaching for the one remaining bottle that was still unopened.

 

“Yeah, that, too.”

 

“So what happened?” Kyuhyun asks, as he wrestles with the wine opener, deliberately not looking at Changmin. There is a sigh to his left, and silence. And then:

 

“I fucked up,” Changmin mutters, woe written in every line of his body. Kyuhyun rolls his eyes and suppresses a crow of delight as he works the cork free with a satisfying pop. “Yeah, I know _that_. What I want to know is how. What about. And why.”

 

“I just- I-” Changmin stops, and scrubs a hand over his face. “I… Remember Dance_Lover?”

 

“Yeah, your Internet boyfriend that you’ve been mooning over all these months. What about him?”

 

“He’s not my b-” Changmin holds out his empty glass for Kyuhyun to fill. “He’s just- okay, whatever, that’s irrelevant. What’s relevant is that I was supposed to meet him today. Like… two hours ago.”

 

“And?”

 

“I didn’t go.” Changmin drains half of his glass at one go. “I… Okay, correction. I did go. To the meeting place. But I didn’t meet him. I just… Yeah.” Changmin cannot remember the last time he was this unsure of his words.

 

Kyuhyun stares at him, one hand twirling the bottom of his wineglass in a practiced motion. “Wait, what? So you chickened out? But why? Am I missing something here?” 

 

“You remember that dinky little store we passed by the day I went to do the ribbon cutting shit for the new HMV branch?”

 

Kyuhyun wrinkles his nose in distaste. “The one that looked like a hippy commune? Yeah. I still don’t get why you dragged me there, that day, by the way. I’m from Accounts, dude, not Publicity, remember? But what has that got to do with your cyber boytoy?”

 

“He owns it. Dance_Lover owns it.” Changmin admits and immediately wants to hide somewhere very far away, but settles for taking another drink instead.

Kyuhyun is quiet for two seconds. Then: “You’re shitting me.”

 

“I am not.”

 

A chuckle works its way free from in between Kyuhyun’s lips, then another, until they coalesce into loud, obnoxious laughter. “You are so absolutely _shitting_ me. Fuck! Are you serious— fuck! Of all the… This is so much better than those stupid wailing opera things you love so much!”

 

“I’m glad you find my life problems so amusing,” Changmin mutters sourly, over the sound of his best friend giggling himself sick like some deranged teenage girl.

 

“Only you,” Kyuhyun manages around the awful sounds he’s making, “This shit could only happen to you. All that terrible karma finally catching up.”

 

“Laugh away, yeah, go ahead,” Changmin reaches for the wine bottle again. All the alcohol in the world is not enough for this. He wonders why he thought telling Kyuhyun would be a good idea in the first place.

 

Changmin knows he is an unfeeling bastard, but the one person on the fucking planet that can trump him in that area is his best friend, the moron currently howling like a hyena to his right. “Fuck you very much.”

 

“Oh, get off your high horse and stop being so dramatic.” Kyuhyun chokes out from between his cackles. “You know you’ll be worse than this if it happens to me. Only,” and here he stops to wipe a tear from his eye, “it wouldn’t happen to me, because I don’t have any bad karma from actually being a _good_ person.”

 

“Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Cho, that’s very good of you,” Changmin glares at his once again empty glass and wishes he were dead. Before this afternoon, he had thought that maybe there was a chance that he would finally- no point thinking about _that_ , now.

 

“Wait,” Kyuhyun finally finds the decency to rein in his sniggering, and leans forward to peer owlishly into Changmin’s face. “Wait. Are you actually upset?” 

 

“Fuck you,” Changmin spits, shifting around in his chair, looking away. The wine roils in his stomach, and Changmin tamps down the urge to run for the toilet.

 

“You are!” Kyuhyun blinks and lets himself thump back against the back of his seat, jaw gaping open with more than a little shock. “Fuck. I can’t believe- You actually _are_.”

 

“Nice of you to notice,” comes the sullen response, and a trickle of guilt makes its way into Kyuhyun’s voice. “Hey, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t think… Okay, that was shitty of me. I thought you were just, uh-”

 

“Forget it.” Changmin shakes off the cautious hand Kyuhyun has laid on his back. “It’s nothing.”

 

“It’s not.” Kyuhyun purses his lips and sets his glass aside, trepidation written into every line of his frame. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay, I really thought you were just mad that the guy is a crazy hippy. But uh, if you want to, uh, talk about your feelings or anything, you know I’m here for you, man.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about my feelings,” Changmin rushes to reassure his friend, dissuading his obvious discomfort, “I just want to… to fix it or something.”

 

“Well.” Kyuhyun offers after a long stretch of silence. “I think this calls for more alcohol.”

 

  

* * *

 

 

Two hours later, they are so drunk that Kyuhyun is half lying on the floor and half on his armchair- a feat that Changmin thinks would be impossible had his best friend being more sober and thus have more control over his muscles. He takes a swig out of the –fourth, fifth, sixth, who cares?— bottle of soju he has clutched in between his hands and thinks his life does not seem so bad with the haze of alcohol warming it again.

 

“Well, treating him like a person instead of a smudge of dirt might be a good place to start.” Kyuhyun mumbles to the floor suddenly.

 

“Who?” Changmin blinks, as his living room turns dark. Someone must have turned out the lights. He blinks again. Or he forgot to lift his eyelids again after lowering them; that works too. 

 

“You know. Lover boy.” Kyuhyun flaps his hands and Changmin chortles, because Kyuhyun looks like a downed bird in the throes of death. “Dancey dancey dude. That one.”

 

“Oh.” Changmin mutters, and feels his face crumple. “I think I loft- leave- what’s the word? Yeah. Love him.”

 

“Huh.” Kyuhyun tries to angle his head to look at Changmin, but he does not really succeed and instead manages to focus his blurry gaze on the other’s knees. “L-O-V-E, all you need is love, that love?”

 

“The Beatles were gods,” Changmin agrees, trying to drink more soju, but missing his mouth entirely to hit the bottle on his cheek. He frowns at the dull ‘thunk’ that sounds and tries to aim the bottle at his lips again. “L, is for the way I look at his texts, O, is for the only one I see, that love. It’s so scary but awesome and just— awesome. He’s awesome. Even though his taste in music is shit. But still shit awesome, you know?”

 

“I think you might be broken. Why don’t you just,” Kyuhyun gestures vaguely to the heavens, as he slides completely to the floor, “do a different Internet thing?”

 

“What?”

 

“Like Craigslist or something. ‘Lonely Asian male, single and drunk, looking for love and hot kinky sex with fun people, not averse to finding the love of his life. Vaginas and small dicks need not respond. Long legs are preferred.’ That sort of thing.”

 

“That’s not a thing people do,” Changmin squints at his friend, “It’s so sad.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyuhyun sighs and curls up, eyes closing, “But you’re sadder.”

 

“That’s not a word,” Changmin pouts at the scrunched up ball on his living room floor.

 

“It so is, read a dictionary, you drunken ass,” Kyuhyun swipes a futile hand at the drool leaking out from the side of his mouth.

 

“You’re drunker,” Changmin pulls the throw blanket over himself.  He feels so heavy and tired, and just wants to sleep this shitty day off.

 

“Whatever,” Kyuhyun passes out without another word.

 

“Gonna fix it,” Changmin promises himself, blinking blearily at his phone sitting on the end table.  It had not beeped all night. “Gonna make it better.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	2. Sometimes A Guy Just Wants The Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have the second installment on our indomitable Mister Shim's birthday! A certain line is shamelessly lifted from the actual film, our congratulations if you know which particular one we are talking about.

"Yah," Heechul smacks a hand down in front of Yunho, startling the latter out of a depressed stupor that has him flopped over the cash register at the counter of _Music on Main_. "What happened to your face? You look like Taepoong got hit by a car and died."

 

"Kim Heechul!" Yunho snaps, scowling.

 

Heechul holds up both hands, splayed out before his chest. "Whoa, okay, chill. Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed today."

 

Yunho subsides, grumbling. "That's my dog you're talking about."

 

Heechul props his chin up on one hand, and fixes a nonplussed gaze on Yunho. "Last week I said Taepoong was going to eat himself to his death at the rate he was scarfing down his feed and you laughed. What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing," Yunho mutters, feeling oddly ashamed. He does not want to tell Heechul about X-JapanIsMyGod standing him up the day before, does not want to hear “I told you so” from his friend.

 

"Spill," Heechul orders imperiously, sidling around the counter to join him by the cash register. "Is it the store? Are you worrying about our sales? Or something else? Come on, spill. Now. Chop chop."

 

“Not the store, although that too..." He trails off, thinking of how much the revenue for the last few months are dipping exponentially in comparison to sales figures a year ago. He shakes his head, willing himself to not think about that. But that just pushes worries of a different sort back to the forefront of his mind.

 

"I sort of… got stood up.” Yunho takes a deep breath and rounds the counter to make for the shelves. He needs to do something with his hands.

 

“By your internet boyfriend?”

 

Someone mixed up Aerosmith’s albums with ABBA’s, probably a customer, and the sight of it brings a displeased frown to Yunho’s face. He arranges them back to their respective order, slotting Aerosmith’s Get a Grip behind ABBA’s Voulez Vous. “I… Yeah.”

 

There is no answer from Heechul, and Yunho turns, unnerved by the silence, only to see his friend-cum-employee arching an eyebrow at him. “What?”

 

“Nothing. I just didn’t want to say ‘I told you so’,” Heechul shrugs.

 

“You just did.” Yunho points out sullenly.

 

“Yeah, but not right after your big revelation,” Heechul produces a nail file from apparent thin air and starts picking under his nails. “So what are you going to do?”

 

“I have no idea.” Yunho fiddles with the CDs and tucks Skillrex back behind Shakira. “I—”

 

A ringtone interrupts him, and he grapples for his phone, gaze flying to the screen.

 

The abrupt movement nearly knocks the entire roll of Ps off the shelf, from Paramore to Poets of the Fall, and he braces an elbow against them to keep them from falling. “It’s him!”

 

“Yay,” Heechul says, voice saturated with boredom, but Yunho tunes him out in favour of checking the newest KakaoTalk message.

 

> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** Hey, I just want to apologise again for running out on you yesterday, okay? I really am sorry… I’m not going to make any excuses, I just freaked out at the thought of meeting you, I guess. It’s not you or anything, I’m just an idiotic bastard when it comes to socialising and I was worried I’ll scare you off or something. And I ended up pulling a stunt that might as well ruin this friendship too. I’m really sorry.

 

“He says he freaked out and he is sorry!” Grinning, Yunho texts back as fast as he can one-handed.

 

> **Dance_Lover:** Oh… OMG. I know how you feel! I was really nervous too! Don’t worry, I’m not angry or anything. It’s okay! I was just worried you or Mandoongie were injured! No worries! (: (: (:
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** So we’re okay?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** We’re okay, don’t worry!
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** I’m really, really sorry.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** Don’t be! We’re okay!

 

“So everything is dandy in paradise again?” Heechul asks, skepticism all but dripping off of the words, when Yunho slips his phone back into his pocket, beaming the entire time.

 

“Not paradise, but yeah, everything’s fine,” Yunho gives his pocket one last fond pat before turning back to the mess he made out of the shelf. He hears Heechul scoff behind him, but even that is not enough to dent his good mood.

 

* * *

 

If they were going to run into each other again, Changmin should have known it would happen at that coffee shop.  

 

After spending the next two days recovering from a vicious hangover, Changmin has resolved to follow through on his drunken promise to be a better person – a person someone like Yunho would deserve.

 

Thank fuck Yunho had accepted his lie when Changmin texted him a day ago, flimsy though it was. Now he has to work hard to make sure he does not lie to the other man about anything else. It seems like a good first step in rehabilitating himself.

 

“You’re so fucked,” Kyuhyun had sing-songed on his way out the apartment, and Changmin had to concur. 

 

And running into Yunho so quickly has definitely not been in the plan, and Changmin freezes as he spots the other man at the end of the considerably long line up in front of the cash register. Panic fills him from belly to throat, but as another eager customer pushes him through the door, Changmin finds himself hustling to steal the spot behind Yunho.  

 

Yunho looks tired, and a little thinner, but even that is not quite enough to detract from the other man’s good looks. Changmin frowns, hoping he is not the cause of Yunho's slightly haggard appearance. He coughs lightly, hiding a smile when Yunho turns and realizes who is waiting in the queue just behind him.

 

“You,” he scoffs before spinning around to face front once again, “Here to make another barista cry?”

 

“I did not make that barista cry,” Changmin replies, smoothly, trying to smile hard enough that Yunho will feel it burning a hole into the back of his skull and turn to look at him once again. He is resolutely ignored.

 

“I’m sure you have though,” comes the muttered response, and Changmin feels the corners of his mouth pull down slightly at the dislike lacing the voice, “Here to gloat again?”

 

“No,” Changmin tries to sound casual around the tightness in his throat, “I’m actually here for coffee.”

 

“How convenient,” Yunho tries to snipe back, but it comes off as sort of sad, and Changmin cannot help thinking how adorable it is.

 

“And to apologize.”  

 

Yunho turns and stares at him blankly, but a cough from the barista at the counter sounds, and he faces back to place his order, ignoring the man behind him once more much to Changmin’s chagrin. “A hot chocolate, medium, with whipped cream, please. I’m having it here.”

 

“You know, going without whipped cream is much healthier.” Changmin feels compelled to point out, but it earns him a stiffening of Yunho’s shoulders and nothing else. It is true though, processed whipped cream is so full of preservatives and whatnot, and Yunho is already looking too skinny and tired for his liking.

 

“And um, maybe you should consider telling them to give you soy next time? If you don’t say anything, they’ll just drop full creamed milk on you,” Changmin rushes on, but Yunho is already paying for his purchase and turning on his heel; making for a table on the other side of the room. 

 

“May I help you with your order?” comes rather loudly from behind the cash register, and Changmin flicks an impatient “I’m not ordering” as his legs carry him towards where Yunho is sitting, staring studiously at the deliberate grooves carved into the cafe table. 

 

He slips into the empty chair opposite Yunho, spirits perking up a little at how Yunho sits up straighter to focus his gaze on Changmin, instead of ignoring him outright.

 

“What do you want?” Yunho hisses, and Changmin deflates a little bit at the intensity of the words.

 

“I’m sorry I was a jerk the other day,” Changmin rushes in as one of the employees brings out Yunho’s hot chocolate, sleeved and ready to go. Changmin frowns at it. "Didn't you order to have it here? What kind of crap service is this?"

 

“The other day,” Yunho mimics back, all but ignoring Changmin's complaint, which was made entirely on Yunho's behalf, a sardonic smile sitting crooked on his lips. Changmin thinks the look is unsuited to his face. Yunho’s eyes and mouth are much more suited to happy curves and laughter like his expression at the dog park - open and cheerful and warm.

 

“Everyday?” Changmin tries again, widening his eyes like he used to do when he was younger so his father’s secretary would give him an extra candy from the jar, but Yunho just looks bewildered instead of sympathetic and everything is going wrong, why does it not work and what will it take to make Yunho smile at him? 

 

“Look, I don't know what you're trying to do, but,” Yunho’s hand curls around his cup and he stands abruptly, towering over Changmin’s seated form, “Apology not accepted.”

 

Changmin sits stunned, as Yunho stalks away for all of three seconds before vaulting out of his chair to catch up with the other man, heart hammering at the thought of another failed encounter.  

_He doesn’t know you’re X-Japan, idiot_ , a voice that sounds remarkably like Kyuhyun shouts down at him from his mind, and Changmin quickens his pace, closing the distance between them hastily on the sidewalk.

 

“Wait!” Changmin breathes, breath fogging in the cold Seoul air, obscuring his sight of Yunho’s annoyed face as he turns to him once again.

 

“Out with it, Shim,” Yunho checks his phone, and Changmin’s stomach lurches at the sight, “I have a failing CD store to run.”

 

Flinching at the casual reminder of how badly he fucked this up, Changmin puts his hands up, a gesture of surrender, “I’m trying to be better.”

 

“What does _that_ even mean,” Yunho snaps, eyes looking up from his phone screen to spare Changmin a look of disbelief. "Is this pity? Some scraps of goodwill to a random unlucky bastard who happens to have his livelihood halfway crushed beneath your thumb?"

 

“I was just doing my job, okay, I," Changmin sucks in a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. This is all going too wrong and completely unlike how he imagined it in his head this morning, on his way to the coffee shop. "Anyway, I just- It means that I was an asshole, and I want to make it up to you.”

 

“You can try,” Yunho cedes after a long moment of glaring at Changmin, but the unvoiced _you won't succeed_ is all but written across his face, and the tightness around his eyes and mouth tells Changmin he has his work cut out for him.

 

* * *

 

After that odd incident with the bipolar lunatic –who on earth honestly has mood swings that extreme and volatile?— Yunho thought he would be able to avoid one Shim Changmin, possible candidate for the psychiatric hospital downtown, if he stays away from the café.

 

He honestly does not think the weirdo would turn up at his own doorstep. Or well, the doorstep at _Music on Main_.

 

The bell he has installed at the ceiling by the door tinkles, and Yunho calls out an automatic “Welcome to _Music on Main_!” even as he looks up, and his smile fades at the identity of the latest customer.

 

It is the lunatic, slightly hunched over in his greatcoat with hands tucked in his pockets. Yunho gapes at him. Behind the cash register, Heechul drops his magazine with an undignified squawk.

 

“Um, hi.” Changmin says with a smile, if smiles are supposed to look like grimaces.

 

“You!” Yunho works his jaw, but nothing comes out other than a hostile, “what are _you_ doing here?”

 

"I..." Changmin rocks back on his heels, hands fisting awkwardly by his sides. "I... Do you have Sumi Jo?"

 

"Yes," Yunho answers, on auto-pilot. He had ordered the renowned soprano's CDs on a whim two months ago, after X-Japan had introduced her music to him. Unlike X-Japan though, he prefers her Korean pieces than her work in Western opera. "What's it to you?"

 

"Uh," Changmin shoves both of his hands into his pockets. "Do you have her folk album, _Hyangsu_? I've been... I've been looking for it for months, but I can't seem to find anything other than her aria recordings in stores."

 

"Wait. Are you- Are you here to _buy my CDs_?" Yunho gapes. 

 

“Well, they’re not really yours, you aren’t the one to... record… them-” Changmin’s sentence tapers off, as he takes in the unamused expression Yunho is currently sporting. “Um. Yes. Yes, I am.”

 

“I see.” Yunho nods, although his tone implies the very opposite. “And you couldn’t get this at the your stores, why?”

 

“I told you, they’re not mine, I just work for HMV-” Changmin starts, but he shakes his head, frustrated. He is not here to argue, he just wanted to drop by and, maybe, just maybe, talk to Yunho like a proper person without insults or sniping. But this particular scenario does not seem to be too likely. “I just… Do you have her recordings?”

 

Slightly taken aback at how defeated the other man sounds, Yunho rubs at the back of his neck and makes his way to the Folk/Classical aisle, a touch of guilt eating away at him. Maybe he is being too defensive. “I… Yeah. We do. This way.”

 

He runs a thumb along the spines of the CDs, and eyes scanning the titles as best as he can, with Changmin practically leaning over his shoulder, so close the other is standing to Yunho’s back. “Um, sorry, we have her _Airi Arirang_ but not _Hyangsu_ , I think someone else bought it, because I only had one copy shipped.”

 

“Oh.” Changmin deflates, and some hitherto unseen devil at Yunho’s shoulder prompts him to go: “But… I can order it for you and contact you when it gets delivered here. If you want.”

 

“You can?” Changmin stares at him, and Yunho feels himself getting caught in the other’s gaze. It is the first time he looks, properly looks at Changmin, and he sees that the other man has large eyes, heavily lashed and almost feminine in their up tilted roundness.

 

The silence turns electric with crackling tension, and Yunho tears his eyes away with difficulty, the nape of his neck burning with an emotion -embarrassment?- that he does not really want to identify. “Y-yeah, I can do that. Just… Leave me your number or something. So that I can text you when it comes in.”

 

“Oh, okay! Sure… I mean- sure! Thanks so much, I’ve been looking all over for that album, it’s the only I’m missing.” The rate at which Changmin brightens is almost comical in its speed, and Yunho cannot really reconcile this… boy to the fussy businessman he first spoke to in the coffee queue some months ago.

 

He lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile that is probably more awkward than it feels, and pulls his phone out. If Shim ‘Anal’ Changmin can attempt to be friendly, so can he.  “So what’s your phone number?”

 

* * *

 

> **Jung Yunho:** Hi! This is Jung Yunho from _Music on Main_.
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** I’m sorry but I think your order might be delayed because my supplier for Asia says that they don’t have that particular Sumi Jo album.  But don’t worry I’ve already contacted by UK supplier!
> 
> **Shim Changmin:** Oh… it’s okay. My utmost apologies for causing so much trouble for just one recording.
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** Aw it’s okay! It’s no trouble either, we’ve had more customers with more tedious orders ;D

 

* * *

 

> **Jung Yunho:** Hey your CD is in! You free to collect it? ^^
> 
> **Shim Changmin:** Finally! I’m really sorry for all the trouble you went through. Yes, I’m free after work this evening.
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** OMG man, I told you, don’t mention it. You’re too polite. You’re going to be paying me, remember?
> 
> **Shim Changmin:** Yes, but only for the CD. At least let me pay for the shipping fee too.
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** Nahhhh it’s cheap, told you I got it from my supplier >u< if you really feel bad, treat me to a beer!
> 
> **Shim Changmin:** Tell you what, I’ll do better.  Let’s have supper after I collect the CD from you later today. How’s that?
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** Sounds great!!!!! I want to eat meat, how’s that!
> 
> **Shim Changmin:** You really deserve it. Have my thanks again and I’ll see you later :-)
> 
> **Jung Yunho:** See ya~ :D :D :D 

 

* * *

 

 

“When you said you wanted to get supper,” Yunho laughs when he approaches Changmin in the crowded street, surprise colouring his words, “I thought you might have meant at a place where the tables and chairs weren’t plastic.”

 

The food cart is old and the woman behind it looks unglamorous but warm, and this happens to be one of Changmin’s favourite places to grab a bite in the area.  

 

“That’s crazy, why would I do that?” Changmin grins back, trying to make this casual— make them seem like all of the other friends squeezing in a little bit of time together after a long day of work. Yunho smiles back, and Changmin feels his heart sing.

 

“Besides, this cart has the best pork and kimchi dumplings in the city.” 

 

“I don’t believe you,” Yunho teases, smile still in place, “I guess you’ll just have to buy me some.”

 

“Hey, I’m the one buying a CD! You should thank me with dumplings!” The words tumble out from between Changmin’s lips before he can really think about what he’s saying.  Yunho’s smile gets a little tighter, and Changmin gets a sinking feeling that things are worse at _Music on Main_ than he really knows.

 

Before he can apologize, Yunho recovers, eyes crinkling and mouth curving back into something warm and genuine again, “I got you free shipping.”

 

Heaving a dramatic sigh Changmin gives in, “Fine.  I’ll buy you the dumplings.”

 

Seating is scarce, but Changmin manages to scrounge up a couple of plastic chairs tucked against a brick wall where the two of them crouch together, leaning over their paper bowls of savoury fried goodness. 

 

Unable to help himself, Changmin steals as many little glances at Yunho as he can manage.  The older man looks nervous fidgeting in his seat, shifting and resettling constantly.  It is a little –okay, extremely— cute, and Changmin watches him a moment longer before breaking the silence that had been almost comfortable. 

 

“Thank you, again,” he wipes at his mouth with a paper napkin, catching the reddish sauce he can feel spilling down his chin.  He catches Yunho watching his mouth, and tries not to be too hopeful. “For the CD and everything.”

 

“What?” Yunho blinks, looking up to Changmin’s eyes with a slightly distracted expression before giving himself a minute shake, “Oh! Yeah, it was no problem.  Like I said, I got it from my supplier.”

 

“You have a good relationship with them, huh?” Changmin finishes his last dumpling, relishing the spicy sweetness of the filling.

 

“I do,” Yunho nods, “Being an independent store with an eclectic catalogue gets you connections apparently.”

 

“Being a good businessman helps too,” Changmin tries the compliment to see how it feels on his tongue, and he is surprised at how much he means it. 

 

Yunho starts shaking his head, “Not good enough it looks like.” Changmin wants to punch himself right out of his chair for putting that hunch in Yunho’s shoulders and for having nothing else to say.

 

Quiet draws out between them until Yunho looks up from his hands and his empty bowl. “You know, I’m surprised.” 

 

Changmin snaps back from mentally berating himself to stare back at Yunho, “At what?”

 

“You,” the trashcan is about four feet away, and Changmin is forced to wait while Yunho stands up and walks over to dispose of his bowl. When he sits back down, “The CD, the food cart, the apologies - they’re all very human.”

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Changmin mutters, scuffing a foot against the uneven ground.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yunho smiles again, but this one is for himself rather than Changmin, “You really are trying aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Changmin swallows, nervous and palms unfortunately sweaty, “Yeah, I am.” 

 

“Well, keep at it,” and without another word Yunho stands, sparing Changmin a quick wave and smile before disappearing into the street. He leaves Changmin with his empty dish and feeling like maybe this is not a complete fool’s errand, after all. 

 

* * *

 

 

The figures at the bottom line never lie, and this quarter’s earnings tell Yunho that this is the last quarter _Music on Main_ will ever have. The glaring red numbers burn into his retinas, and Yunho slumps in the uncomfortable chair. They have to close. It hurts like someone kicked him in the chest with a stiletto - sudden and sharp, knocking his breath from his lungs.  

_We have to move our stock_ , he finds himself thinking, clinging to business and rationality when everything he has worked for in the last eight years manages to disintegrate around him over six months.  There is only one number he can think to call, and he is only half startled by his own actions when he has his phone pressed to his ear, waiting for a familiar voice to pick up.

 

“Hello?” Changmin sounds curious and surprised, and Yunho stops himself from thinking about how he sounds completely adorable.

 

“Hi,” Yunho has no idea how to say this, and says as much.  

 

“Then just go for it,” Changmin encourages, and Yunho hears the sound of a door closing in the background.  

 

“Were you busy?” Guilt swells, an ugly roiling in his chest.

 

“It’s okay, I wasn’t running the meeting,” the reassurance makes Yunho feel a little better, “Now spit it out.”

 

Yunho shuffles a couple of CD cases on the table, anxious and unsure how to ask this of Changmin, who waits patiently on the phone for Yunho to start talking.

 

“I’m closing,” Yunho sighs out, and the words sound hard and metallic creaking from his lips, like saying it out loud makes it more real than the numbers on his screen ever could. 

 

“Oh, Yunho,” Changmin sounds genuinely sorry, and Yunho believes him this time.

 

“But I still have some stock that I’ll need to move,” he lets the offer hang unspoken and waits to see what Changmin will do. He knows this would basically be a favour - Changmin has no reason to help him, has no motive for buying the CDs cluttering his little shop shelves, but this is the first thing Yunho thought to do.

 

“I think we can figure something out, but not over the phone,” Changmin replies immediately, “Can you meet for a lunch meeting tomorrow?”

 

“My schedule is pretty clear,” Yunho glances around his store sadly, “I can manage lunch.”

 

* * *

 

“We have to stop only meeting over food and coffee,” Changmin smiles up at Yunho as he approaches the table. The restaurant is quiet and has excellent waffles, but Yunho thinks he should probably order something a little more appropriate for an afternoon business lunch.

 

“Why?” He takes his seat, trying to joke but unable to summon the humour, “Food and coffee are great.”

 

Changmin picks up on the mood, perceptive and tactful for once, and Yunho can’t help but be grateful for the lack of sarcasm.

 

They sit in silence, and the only words that are exchanged are with the waiter. Yunho can feel Changmin’s eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to discuss the reason why they’re here. It makes it too real, and the words glue to the sides of his throat, unspoken, even as he tries to wash them free with tea.  

 

“Yunho,” Changmin sounds apologetic, and guilt spikes through Yunho’s wallowing because Changmin has things to do, a mega store to run, and of course he only has so much time to sit with Yunho.  Swallowing down the last of his drink, Yunho forces the strange feeling of disappointment that threatens to well up, and pulls out a few sheets of paper from his leather messenger bag. 

 

“Right, I’m sorry.” Yunho mutters, fingering the sheets nervously before handing them over.  His fingers touch Changmin’s briefly, and he feels awkward, the contact like static shock that has him hurriedly shoving the paper into Changmin’s hands.  

 

“That’s all the stock we have left.” Yunho mutters, glancing away from Changmin who is still watching him instead of looking at the lines and the numbers on the pages in front of him.

 

“We’ll take it all,” Changmin assures him, eyes still on Yunho instead of the papers, “You have a knack for choosing excellent selections. I can’t imagine that there would be anything superfluous.”  

 

The compliment takes Yunho aback once again, still unused to genuine kindness coming from the other businessman.  It still fits Changmin oddly; the sincerity and openness jarring with the cold, callous man Yunho had initially met. It is confusing, but oddly nice. Yunho knows which version of Changmin he prefers.  

 

He makes a mental note to tell X-Japan about the strangeness later. 

 

“Thank you,” he cannot think of anything else to say. Silence blooms again.

 

“I am sorry, Yunho,” Changmin mutters, folding the papers in half, finally glancing away, “I wish it could have ended differently.”

 

“Me too, but there’s nothing to be done now. But… I appreciate the sentiment, for what it’s worth.” Yunho fiddles with the strap of his bag, mentally starting a list of everything that is left for him to do.  

 

“Oh, fuck,” Yunho curses, and Changmin raises a brow - even he knows it is uncharacteristic of the older man to use language like that in public. An older woman two tables over sends them a look, and Yunho has the good manners to blush momentarily.

 

“I need to find a new job.” A sense of dread snakes up Yunho’s spine, smooth and horrible.

 

In a moment of insanity, he looks at Changmin. How hideous would it be for him to work at the store that was responsible for his current situation? He almost does not care as reality continues to crash down on him; no job, little savings, no back up plan.  He feels stupid and ridiculous at how he had not even cultivated alternatives - how he had made that store his life, and now he is left with nothing to show for it. Changmin holds the papers that make it official.

 

Changmin seems to be able to read the desperation in Yunho’s face, and his features soften. It is like a kick to Yunho’s stomach, seeing the pity and helplessness reflected back at him in Changmin’s huge round eyes.  

 

“No, Yunho,” he shakes his head, “I can’t hire you. There are no openings, and it would be a conflict of interest.”

 

“What interests?” Yunho shoots back, petulant and drowning and he cannot seem to keep back the feelings he managed to clamp down on earlier in the day. Edges begin to fray and control loosens, and he is angry it is happening in front of Changmin. Changmin who keeps watching him with something deeper than pity, and Yunho does not know what to do with that.

 

“I put you out of business for one thing,” Changmin dead pans, “Second, it looks like bad business if I were to hire a friend so quickly like that.” 

 

“A friend?” Yunho chokes out, surprised at Changmin’s usage of the particular word. The other man blushes furiously, hands clenching into fists in embarrassment.

 

“I mean - what I meant to say,” he desperately backpedals, and Yunho cannot help the grin that twists his lips at the novel sight of Shim Changmin blushing and stuttering. It is rather endearing, and Yunho finds that his earlier upset has melted away, just like that.

 

“I understand,” Yunho cuts in, saving Changmin from his mess.

 

“But,” Changmin continues after a moment, “I think I might have something else if you’re interested.  Another store is looking for a stock room supervisor?  It’s a little farther away - in Myeongdong - but only an extra fifteen minutes or so.”

 

“You,” Yunho blinks and twists his fingers into the napkin on his lap, “You would do that for me?”

 

“Of course,” Changmin pulls out a card, and quickly scribbles down a name and a number on the back, “You’re a good worker, qualified, and know the business.  You’re an ideal candidate.  I would be an idiot not to recommend you.”

 

He hands Yunho the card with a smile, and Yunho feels overwhelmed momentarily, brain trying to reorganize around this new information and coming up with something along the lines of “Shim Changmin is not so bad.”

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Yunho tucks the card away in his wallet, making a note to call the manager after he sorts through more paper work. Deals with the lease. Settling Heechul. Letting his regulars know about the closing. There is just too much to do.

 

“Say that you’ll have lunch with me again,” Changmin’s bid for a confident invitation stumbles, and he ends up looking eager and kind of sweet, eyes still wide and shining, and Yunho does not stand a chance, and he is not sure that he wants to anymore.

 

“Sounds good to me,” he agrees, surprised at the genuine happiness that greets the promise, and it only intensifies as Changmin smiles back, pleased and shy, and Yunho thinks he might be screwed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Texting your Internet boyfriend again?” Heechul asks, as he helps Yunho pack away the last of the CDs into cardboard boxes. It disturbs Yunho a little how neatly his life fits into them; it is all so precise and casual.   

 

Yunho seals another box with packing tape, phone by his side, and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s Changmin, he’s asking if I want help with the packing.”

 

Heechul leans a hip on a dismally empty shelf. “‘Changmin’ now, is it? Not ‘that asshole’?”

 

Yunho texts a quick “no nd thnks almst done up2 a beer 2nite?” back without really looking, and pockets his phone, looking up to see Heechul staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Heechul pushes away and reaches for a band of clear tape. “Just that you two seem awfully close all of a sudden. What about that X-Japan dude?”

 

Yunho blinks, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. “What about him?”

 

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

 

“My boyf-” Yunho splutters, nearly dropping the sealed box in his arms. “Changmin is- He’s not my boyfriend!” Instead he hastily carries it to the door, waiting for the flush to clear from his face.

 

“And neither is X-Japan,” he adds as an afterthought, dumping the box on a pile of many other similar ones. “We’re friends. Just friends.”

 

“With Shim Changmin or your online boyfriend?”

 

“With both of them!” Yunho shoves Heechul lightly. “We’re all friends.”

 

“Together?”

 

“Ah, no,” Yunho scrubs his hand over his face, and surveys the empty shop. CDs, packed away in their boxes. Posters, rolled up and in their tubes. Catalogues, also packed away. “I don’t think they know each other.”

 

“Because that would be ridiculous,” Heechul smirks, sealing another box and shoving it towards Yunho who dutifully hauls it to the pile.

 

“Why does it matter to you? I talk to Changmin, and I talk to X-Japan,” he does not like where this conversation is headed, does not like that wicked glint in Heechul’s eye. 

 

“No,” Heechul draws the word out like Yunho is an especially slow customer, “You talk to X-Japan, but you go out for dinner, lunch, coffee, drinks, _everything_ , with Changmin.” 

 

Yunho narrows his eyes, “What are you saying? That I shouldn’t see him?”

 

“What I’m saying,” Heechul’s hip is back against the shelf, and he is leaning back and being all irritating and nonchalant in the most condescending way, “is I don’t get why you do.” 

 

“Because of the store?” 

 

“No, because of his fashion sense,” Heechul snorts and then pauses, muttering, “Although now that I mention it...” 

 

“I don’t blame him for the store,” Yunho confesses in a rush, relief and surprise crashing over him, “He didn’t pick the location; he just manages it. And it’s not even that.  He’s really clever, and knows more about music than I gave him credit for which is awesome.  He can be really nice sometimes too - he remembered my birthday even,” Yunho’s mouth runs a mile a minute, and it will not be stopped until it has sung all of Changmin’s praises, it seems, “Even if he is a sarcastic crone with a complicated coffee order.” The fondness in his voice is a dead give away, and Yunho knows— he just knows he might be in trouble now. “He brought me soup the other week when I was sick even.”

 

“Oh wow, thoughtful _and_ handsome,” Heechul nods sagely.

 

“Yeah, and he’s-” Yunho snaps his mouth shut and glares pitchforks at his friend who is cackling with unhinged joy.

 

“I knew it, you _like_ him.”

 

Does he? Oh shit. “I think I might,” Yunho’s stomach turns a couple of flips, and he checks his phone - mostly because he needs something to do with his hands. It’s a good thing he does because he has an hour to rush back to his apartment and change for his interview at the HMV in Myeongdong. But first he checks his messages.

 

 _Sounds great! I’ll see you later!_ Changmin’s reply is cheery, and backflips turn into butterflies, and oh yeah, Yunho’s in trouble.  Probably with a capital “T.”

 

“So what about X-Japan?” Heechul persists.

 

“We’re just friends.” Yunho lies through his teeth. The twisted mess of emotions that set up camp somewhere in his chest a month or so ago twists harder, and Yunho pretends like the conflicting feelings have not made him lose hours of sleep.

 

Maybe real life friendships are more stable and longer-lived than online ones. But the hundreds of notifications and laughs and teasing messages make it hard for Yunho to sell himself the line, even as he makes plans to meet Changmin after his interview.   

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks later, Yunho is having dinner with Changmin again when he thinks to ask the other’s opinion on something he has been thinking about with increasing frequency these few days.

 

“So,” he begins, with some hesitation. “Changmin… Can I ask your opinion about something?”

 

Changmin’s “go ahead” is half muffled due to the grilled beef stuffing his mouth, but it is still on the right side of intelligible.

 

“Before you scold me for being naive and too trusting or something,” Yunho says, one hand circling the rim of his soju glass, “I have an Internet friend, and I assure you he’s not a creep.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I have an Internet friend, and I assure you he’s not a creep.”

 

Something in Changmin goes absolutely still at Yunho’s statement. He swallows the beef with some difficulty and forces himself to say, very calmly, “Go on.”

 

“Yeah,” Yunho grins. He looks heartened that Changmin is not yelling at him for putting himself at risk with Internet predators or sadistic lechers or something. “So… we’ve been friends for quite a while. Longer than I’ve known you, actually.”

 

“Ah,” Changmin concentrates on laying a piece of raw beef on the sizzling grill. His heart feel as though it is going to jump out of his chest, any minute.

 

“Mmhmm. And I find him pretty nice to talk to. Sort of a kindred spirit, even though we are quite different in some areas. Do you think I’m an idiot if I say I want to meet up with him?”

 

Changmin presses his chopsticks so hard into the beef that they leave two round indentations. “You like him romantically?”

 

Yunho looks taken aback. “No. No!” he bites his lip and hesitates, “I mean, friends! Really friends! Like I want to be actual friends who know each other’s names and voices and… stuff. We’ve only ever texted.” He adds like that means something, like Changmin did not feel something for Dance_Lover even when he was just a text box.

 

He would normally feel jealous, but it seems irrational to be jealous of yourself. Even if the party that is stirring up your feelings of jealousy does not know he is talking about you, to you. Fuck, what a mess.

 

“Well,” Changmin says, with casualness he does not feel, “one can never have too many friends. I say meet him.”

 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, suddenly looking anxious. “I think so too. The thing is… I don’t really know how to bring up the subject.”

 

“Oh?” Changmin picks up the beef and flips it over, raw side facing down. He cannot screw this up. He must _not_ screw this up. “Just say, ‘hey, let’s meet’?”

 

“But we actually… sort of planned to meet like a month ago.” Yunho twirls his chopsticks in the dipping sauce.

 

“What happened?” Fuck. He is so dead. He should have just sucked it up then and met Yunho instead of being a fucking chicken shit and running away. Fuck.

 

“I think I freaked him out.” Yunho sighs, frowning. “He said he was in that area but he just couldn’t meet with me, and he apologised.”

 

 _It wasn’t like that,_ Changmin wants to scream. _It was me being dumb and stupid, it wasn’t you! It was all me, I was an idiot. You were perfect. You_ are _perfect._

Instead he settles for saying, “Maybe something else came up. Like an emergency at work. Or with his family. It probably wasn’t because of you.”

 

“Nah,” Yunho’s frown deepens, and he looks so morose that Changmin feels like punching himself in the face for putting that expression on Yunho’s face. “I think it was me. He probably saw me being all weird playing with Taepoong— Taepoongie is my Siberian Husky, you should come over to my place to meet him sometime-- or something, and got freaked out.”

 

The only thing Changmin could remember that day was how stunning Yunho was, with dappled sunlight in his hair and white teeth gleaming from beaming at Taepoong. 

 

He clears his throat, pulling his beef off of the grill. “Well… You don’t know that for sure. Maybe just text him and see? You two still talk, right?”

 

“Yeah, we do. Mostly about music and dogs, and—” Yunho suddenly stops, and flushes a deep red.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Changmin stares at him, perplexed. He does not know why Yunho is blushing- his conversation topics with him –well, with X-Japan— are all G-rated and certainly not worthy of that shade of red.

 

“I just remembered— okay, don’t get mad,” Yunho drops his chopsticks and stares at Changmin, hands flat on the table. “I may have bitched to him about you once or twice. Back when we weren’t yet, you know, friends.”

 

Oh, _that_. Changmin shrugs. “Why would I be mad? I was a right asshole to you, and I know it.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Yunho is clearly at a loss for a comeback, and falls silent, albeit with a smile on his face. They continue eating, occasionally grilling pieces of beef and pork for each other. 

 

Changmin is nearly full when he decides to try and help himself along once more. “I think you should text him to meet up, your Internet friend.”

 

“You really think so?”

 

“Yeah.” Changmin nods with as much sincerity and earnestness he can muster. “I told you, one can never have too many friends. And if you two can get along that well, even with just letters and numbers, you’ll get on even better face-to-face. I’m sure.”

 

Yunho grins at him then, a full-blown display of perfect teeth and that pretty bottom lip, and Changmin feels a little dazed. “You’re a great friend, Changmin.”

 

Inwardly, Changmin despairs. He wonders if Yunho will still think so when he meets up with X-Japan and gets Changmin instead. But he refuses to lie to Yunho anymore, and this is not something he can just blurt out over coffee. He tries to imagine what that would even look like. “ _By the way, you know your friend X-JapanIsMyGod? Yeah, that’s me, sorry for lying to you all along, I’m a lying liar but we are still friends, aren’t we?”_ Absolutely not. Meeting Yunho as X-Japan properly is the very least he can do.

 

Outwardly, he gives a cheeky smile and goes, “I certainly hope so”, earning himself a playful punch on the arm. 

 

“You bastard,” Yunho says, with affection thick in his voice, and Changmin _aches_. He wants that affection to stay forever, to always be present whenever Yunho talks to him or about him.

 

They drink and eat a little more, only stopping when they’ve both belched more than a few times, disgusting sounds that clearly horrify the group of ladies at the table nearest to them. 

 

Changmin digs into his pocket for his wallet, only for it to be snatched away by Yunho.

 

“My treat,” Yunho insists. “You got me that job with HMV Myeongdong, the least I can do is to treat you to a meal.”

 

“No, but—”

 

“No objections,” Yunho practically flings Changmin’s wallet back at him. “I got my first pay check yesterday, so I’m treating you. The end.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Changmin relents, putting his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. “You’re a rich man now, and all my future meals will be dependent on you and your generosity. Does that sound okay?”

 

“Better,” Yunho acquiesces smugly.

 

* * *

 

> **Dance_Lover:** Hey, do you still want to meet? :3
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** Very much. Again at the dog park?
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** Yay! Haha. Okay. Hmm. How about at the eve of the Spring Festival?
> 
> **X-JapanIsMyGod:** I’ll really like that. I promise I / _will_ / be there this time, regardless of anything.
> 
> **Dance_Lover:** So serious ^^ yes, see you then!!

 

* * *

 

The dog park is only slightly warmer on this second attempt, the air still sharp with winter even if it is the eve of the Spring Festival. Changmin shrugs in his heavy sweater as he watches Mandoong sniff at a tree a couple of meters away until a larger dog come up behind her to smell her rear.  She is rightfully offended and scurries back to Changmin to sit indignantly behind his legs.

 

 _Perfect_ , Changmin rolls his eyes at his temperamental dog and flicks his eyes across the park once more, watching carefully for a flash of red hair or an over enthusiastic husky.  

 

It cannot be more than five minutes later, that Changmin sees Yunho enter with his Taepoong, one of them unleashed and the other looking just as loose and comfortable in jeans and a warm black coat that looks well loved. Nausea sits like an old friend in Changmin’s stomach as he watches the two of them get closer and closer, Yunho’s smile getting clearer and Taepoong barks get louder as he darts around and circles his owner, obviously eager to play.

 

Yunho glances up still smiling, and cocks his head when he spots Changmin, confusion flickering into full blown happiness, and Changmin’s mouth twists into a smile all on its own in response. 

 

“Oh, Changmin!” Yunho grins at him, happy and so fucking gorgeous that Changmin cannot breathe. “Are you here to keep an eye on my friend and make sure I don’t get kidnapped? Taepoong, sit!”

 

“I— uh,” Changmin starts, but Mandoong chooses the exact moment to come out of her sulk, moving out from behind his legs to peer curiously at Taepoong. The bigger dog is better trained, sitting still and alert even though his eyes are darting about the park, clearly longing to run free. Only the twitching of his ears and nose show his curiosity at the sight of the smaller dog.

 

“You didn’t tell me you have a dog!” Yunho’s gaze is drawn downward, tone admonishing but clearly enchanted by Mandoong’s shameless strutting. “Oh, she’s a Maltese, yeah? My friend- the one I’m meeting tonight, he also has a Maltese, and-”

 

Changmin sees the second when the thought occurs to Yunho, when the suspicion finally comes to him. His face shuts down, wooden, when it was all but alight with happiness at the sight of seeing him moments ago.

 

“Changmin.” Yunho says, not looking at him. Instead his gaze is on the ground, on Mandoong. He crouches slowly, trying not to startle the little dog, though Changmin could have told him not to bother. Nothing startles Mandoong when she does not want to be startled. 

 

“I—” Changmin starts, but Yunho holds up a hand, and he shuts up. Instead, Yunho squats down on his haunches, and holds a hand out for Mandoong to sniff. But the dog ignores him, preferring to stare at Taepoong while winding her way -and her leash- about Changmin’s legs.

 

“Hi, Mandoongie,” he murmurs softly, and Mandoong stops her meandering- she recognises her name, though not the voice calling her. There is a voice inside Changmin’s head, his conscience, probably, shrieking for him to speak, to explain, to apologise, but all he can do is to stand and stare like a mute idiot. 

 

“Mandoongie, girl, hello,” Yunho coaxes again, honey-sweet and soft, and Mandoong’s ears shift forward, and she takes a cautious step towards Yunho, and other. It takes but a bit for her to wind up right in front of him, and she sniffs at the hand he is still offering her, and gives it a hesitant lick.

 

Then her tail wags once, twice, and her little furry bottom plops down, while she offers one of her rare doggy grins to Yunho. Changmin had to live with her for nearly six months before she even showed that to him, but he cannot find it in himself to feel betrayed. He thinks- he is sure that he loves Yunho. Seems about right that his dog loves Yunho, too.

 

Yunho gives Mandoong a rub behind her ears and stands; eyes back to level with Changmin’s. He looks mad. But more than that— he looks hurt, too. 

 

“Why?” He asks, tucking his hands to his pocket. Beside him, Taepoong straightens even more, body quivering with tension. “Was it- a joke? Was it funny? To- to pretend and wind me around in circles, like a dog chasing his tail? Was it- revenge or something? To teach me a lesson and-”

 

“No!” Changmin bursts out, feeling lower than scum at the wounded puppy look in Yunho’s eyes. “I- nothing like that! I wanted- I want to be friends!” _I want to be something_ more, _I want to be everything to you,_ he thinks, but does not dare to say it out loud. 

 

“Why all the lies and this sudden big reveal? Why all the drama?” Yunho wants to know, but he is speaking too fast for Changmin to interrupt. “Was it entertaining? Did you laugh about it alone or with your friends, how dumb and stupid Jung Yunho is, how—”

 

“No, no!” Changmin cuts in again, frantic. He needs to explain, needs to show Yunho somehow. “It is just me, I’m an idiot, the being friends thing is real, everything is real, none of it was for fun, it was just me being stupid and an asshole and not knowing how to tell you I’m- I’m,” it is so hard to say the words, so hard to actually admit it aloud, “that I’m X-JapanIsMyGod, and at first you hated me, but I didn’t want to lose your friendship,” a little white lie will not hurt, “so I just- didn’t say anything, and it got harder and harder to say, so I just kept putting it off and… Yeah.” 

 

“So what’s this then?” Yunho waves a hand between them, a gesture made jerky by anger. “Why are you telling me now? Is it suddenly easy to say?”

 

“No! I just— I just feel really guilty, it really sucks lying to you, okay? I _don’t_ want to lie to you, I just want there to be no secrets, and this was the only way I could think of. It isn’t— isn’t some prank or whatever, I just thought you deserve—”

 

“That I deserve?” Yunho’s voice crackles like the lash of a whip, and Changmin flinches despite himself. Yunho is not shouting, nor even speaking loudly, but his stance and the way he holds himself -shoulders back, chin high, legs apart- screams tension and anger, and the other dog owners veer about them, giving them and their pets a wide berth.

 

“I just— I couldn’t let you meet the old Changmin!” Changmin shouts, so loudly that a woman seated on the grass some distance away with her golden retriever gets up and pulls her dog away. “I need to change— I need to— I had to be better before I met you, because you deserve more! You deserve _better_!”

 

Yunho looks at him like he has grown a third head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Look,” Changmin scrubs a hand over his face, digging the pad of his palm into the space between his eyebrows. He is totally fucking this up and, shit, he has got a headache now. “I swear I didn’t do this to set you up to be a fool, or for shits and giggles. It just sort of happened, and I knew you didn’t really like me, and I found out you are, well, you, by accident. But I wanted— still want this friendship. So I tried to make you like me. I tried to be better. But then I was still an asshole, because I was still lying to you, and that was really shitty of me, but I couldn’t just blurt it out to you in the middle of one of our lunches. Or, God forbid, texted you ‘hey by the way I’m also your online friend’. I thought this is the best way and— I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.”

 

Yunho is silent, and his face unreadable. Changmin shifts from one foot to the other, unnerved by the fact that Yunho’s face, usually as open as a book, is now practically indecipherable. “I’ll just go, okay? I’m so sorry, I’m just— so sorry. If you never want to see me again, I… I understand.”

 

He bends down to scoop Mandoong up, and turns away, forcing his legs to move. He takes two steps before a barely audible “wait” sounds from behind him. 

 

Spinning around so fast that Mandoong lets out an indignant whine, Changmin blurts, too afraid to hope, “Yes?”

 

Yunho gazes at him, one hand curled into the fur at Taepoong’s nape. “I’m not… There’s not— I didn’t say I don’t ever want to see you again.”

 

“Then what are you saying?” Changmin asks, Mandoong still held tight against his chest, “Because I feel like I’ve done a lot of the talking, but I still don’t know how you feel or what you think.”

 

“I-” Changmin counts two deep breaths before Yunho starts in again, “I’m glad it’s you.”

 

“You’re—”  

 

“Really happy, yeah,” Yunho takes his hand out of Taepoong’s fur and shoves it into his coat pockets, one foot kicking nervously at the ground, “I wouldn’t have known what to do if it weren’t to be honest. I’d hoped, but— I thought I was just being crazy and it was wistful thinking.”

 

“I don’t understand,” A tiny pinpoint of hope flashes bright in Changmin’s mind, and he tries his best to smother it because it could crush him if it’s false. 

 

“Because,” Yunho breathes out in a rush. “I really like you and I thought… I wanted him to be you so that I… I just wanted it to be you.”

 

“Really,” Changmin says, grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt.

 

“Rea— Although I’m still mad, don’t think I’m not,” Yunho warns, but he smiles back, a tiny one, and there is something warm and achy in the middle of Changmin’s chest at the sight. “But I’m… I’m really happy it’s you.” 

 

“So… we’re good? Friends?” Changmin tries.

 

Yunho’s smile dims slightly, but he nods. “Friends.”

 

The voice –his conscience— is shrieking like an irate banshee by now, and Changmin takes one more look at Yunho, at the way the corners of his lips are dipping slightly, at how he is trying not to look as though someone ran Taepoong over in front of him and goes fiercely, “Fuck this shit.”

 

“What?” Yunho starts confusedly, but he does not get to say more because Changmin takes two steps forward, drops Mandoong like a hot potato to the dog’s very vocal displeasure, grabs Yunho by the collar of his coat and seals their lips together.

 

Yunho tastes like his favourite hot chocolate from the corner cafe, sweet and sugary, and Changmin smiles into their first kiss. He decides he wants another.

 

Yunho seems all right with the idea, his hands fisting into the front of Changmin’s sweater and hauling him impossibly closer, muffling Changmin’s gasp of surprise. The sounds of the dog park fade into an unimportant buzz as Changmin’s teeth pull gently on Yunho’s perfect, full bottom lip, greedy and entirely too desperate for such a public space, but the little noises Yunho makes in the back of his throat as he opens his mouth to the kiss distracts Changmin just enough that he does not give a fuck.  

 

Eventually one sound does break through. Taepoong yelping has Yunho pulling away with a gasp, immediately devoting all of his attention for his dog. With a sigh, Changmin looks too, and flushes red with mortification when he realizes his tiny little Maltese is torturing the giant husky, her sharp little teeth nipping at the larger dog's heels.

 

“Your dog’s a menace,” Yunho laughs, wrapping his arms around Changmin’s waist, and smothering his noises against Changmin’s neck.  Changmin valiantly ignores the hot puffs of Yunho’s breath ticking his skin in favour of scolding his dog.

 

“Mandoongie, no!” He already knows she has no intention of listening, “Stop that right now!” He really should go and pick her up and spare Taepoong, but he would much rather stay where he is with Yunho curled in close against his chest. 

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Yunho asks, sliding away just enough for Changmin to see the way his eyes curve upwards with his grin. “I know this great coffee place, I’m guessing you may like their hazelnut latter macchiato.”

 

“That sounds great,” Changmin laughs, “But I hope the baristas know what they’re doing.”

 

* * *

 

_One year later_

 

* * *

 

**The End**

* * *


End file.
